I Ain't No Fool
by coldfusion9797
Summary: After being kidnapped by Merle to be traded to the Governor, Michonne teams up with Daryl to save Merle's life. A retelling of the show from episode 3.15 onwards. Merle/Michonne eventually.
1. This Sorrowful Life

**AN: I adore The Walking Dead, it's one of my favourite shows. My favourite ships involve Rick or Daryl, especially Rick and Daryl, but that story has been written heaps of times already and much, much better than I ever could. Still, I wanted to write something for this fandom and after rewatching season 3 I realised how much I actually miss Merle. Yeah, he can be an arsehole sometimes, but he's funny, unpredictable and gets shit done. Anyway, I've decided to pair him up with Michonne because it's random and because I reckon she deserves to have someone looking out for her for once. Enjoy...**

 **Chapter 1: This Sorrowful Life**

When Michonne had come to her hands were bound and there was a bag on her head. Merle Dixon had knocked her out and taken her sword. Now he led her like a dog towards her death. A death that would be as slow and as painful as the Governor could make it. Not many things scared her anymore, but that did.

They'd been supposed to be taking care of some rogue walkers in the tombs so the others could barricade the prison against an attack from the self-proclaimed ruler of Woodbury. She realised now she'd been tricked, Rick had never given that order. She felt like a fool for believing a single world that had come out of Merle Dixon's foul mouth.

But fool or not, she wasn't ready to die yet. She hadn't lived this long, suffered all she'd suffered, to die at the hands of an ignorant redneck.

She stays calm and throws subtle threats at him, but he just laughs. In a way he's like her; they know how to take care of themselves. Scarily, they kinda fit into this new world.

Further along the way he hitches her to a post like an animal, so he can hotwire a car. Suddenly the alarm is screaming and walkers are being drawn in from everywhere. She's tied up, swordless, helpless. Even though he's put her in this vulnerable position, and even though he was knowingly going to hand her over to a sadistic psychopath, when the walkers start to close in it's him she calls to for help.

"Merle! Come on, Merle! Merle!"

That's how desperate she is.

He can't hear her over the wailing alarm so it's up to her. Survival mode kicks in and she manages to save herself. In a way it's satisfying to know she wasn't helpless after all.

He fights his own battle and then he's cutting her loose and telling her to get into the car. He almost sounds worried and she wonders if it's something she can use.

On the road she tries a new tactic. Threats didn't work, maybe rattling his cage will.

"So is this your thing, then? You take out the trash?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, darlin'," he taunts. She lets it go and decides she needs to up her game.

"The Governor, Rick, anyone who needs their piss bucket emptied and you come a-running."

They play back and forward, both trying to find the thing that will bring the other undone. She tries using Daryl against him but it doesn't work. Merle is assured of where he stands with his brother, he knows Daryl's loyal to him. In a moment of desperation, or inspiration, she appeals to his sense of decency.

"But once the Governor's done with me, at least I won't have to live with myself. You said you killed sixteen men since this thing started? You ever kill anyone before?"

He shifts uncomfortably.

"No."

Gotcha. She presses on.

"And how about before Woodbury? Before you met him? Huh?" Merle's cracking, she's found the weak spot. He doesn't like what the Governor has made him become.

"So he saves your life, cleans you up, fed you a line of bullshit. Why would you kill somebody else for him? You know, we can go back."

"Ain't happening."

"Both of us. We can just go back."

"I can't go back." There's defeat in his voice now and she knows she's won. "Don't you understand that?" He appeals to her. "I can't." She almost feels sorry for him now, except that he was going to give her to the Governor and she can't forgive that. Frustratingly, she can't let go of hope either. It's a useless remnant of the old world which prompts her to ask, "Why?"

Without a word, he stops the car and cuts her loose.

"You go back with them. Get ready for what's next. I got something I got to do on my own." She takes her chance and gets out. She doesn't run though, she watches him drive out of sight and knows she'll never see him again. He's burdened by something the Governor isn't; a conscience. And he'll die trying to rid his soul of the black mark the Governor put there, when he asked Merle Dixon to kill for him and Merle accepted.

xxx

She wanders back towards the prison, retracing steps from earlier in the day no less heavily. This time, instead of her own impending doom, she feels the weight of yet another death pressing down on her. When were people gonna stop killing each other and focus on the real threat? Her eyes land on the severed head of a walker. The horrible, rotten thing is snapping it's teeth as though it's still got a belly to fill. She drives the katana through it's brittle skull.

"Hey!" She looks up to see Daryl. "Where's my brother? You kill him?"

She shakes her head. "He let me go."

"Don't let anyone come after me."

What was it with the Dixon's? Their self-sacrificing actions were totally at odds with their gruff attitudes. Merle had never considered asking for help either. Daryl was different though, he was her friend. So if Daryl wasn't going to ask she'd have to offer, because she couldn't let him go alone. She knew he'd walk straight into the middle of whatever battle he came across, because no matter the odds, he would do anything he could to save his brother.

And Merle might be an arsehole but he was right about one thing; the Governor needed to be stopped.

"Hey Daryl! Wait up!"

xxx

The killing field they come across doesn't bode well. They check the bodies, they kill the walkers, none of which are Daryl's brother, much to the relief of the younger Dixon.

It's inside that they find him, slumped on the floor, an ominous dark puddle spreading out around him and Daryl freaks out.

Michonne draws her sword, knowing what needs to be done. She'd expected to find some sick satisfaction in putting Merle down but she doesn't. She just feels tired. Defeated. Another life has ended. She'll do what's right. As she readies for the blow Merle's eyes crack open. She never thought she'd see him reanimate. It's a fate worse than death and while some people deserve it, Merle isn't one of those. Despite his misguided tactics Merle had been doing what he thought was best. He'd been trying to save everyone. Well everyone except her.

She holds the katana poised to finish him.

"Dream come true for you, huh girl?" Merle rasps out. She drops her weapon in shock and falls to her knees by his side. He's still alive and that means there's a chance, one she's suddenly desperate for. It's that niggling hope that things will get better, that they don't have to keep suffering, keep losing.

Daryl's there too, an actual smile on his face.

"Shoulda known you were too tough for that son of a bitch, huh Merle?" Daryl's hands roam over his brother, searching for injury.

Her eyes do the same. There's an obvious wound in his chest. Merle wheezes and struggles to breathe.

"What'd he do?" Michonne asks, trying to assess how best to help.

"Nicked a lung. Tension," he sucks in another painful breath, "pneumothorax."

"What?" Daryl frowns.

"Top left pocket, little brother." Daryl immediately fishes out a pill box containing a needle. Drug paraphernalia.

"Really?" she can't help but ask.

"Never know when you might need to check out." Merle tries to grin but it's more like a grimace and Michonne's not surprised that even now, three parts dead, Merle still won't shut up. She finds it strangely comforting. Like the world is still on it's axis or something.

"What do we do?" Daryl asks.

"Second rib space, mid-clavicular line." Merle sounds like he's vomiting a text book. They both hesitate at the unexpected instruction. "Shove it in," Merle insists, gasping for breath. "Too much air... in my chest."

"I-" Daryl falters.

"I'd a done it myself if I coulda you pussies..." he spits, lifting his left hand a few inches before it drops back to the floor. It's a bloody mess. Two fingers are missing.

"You bit?" Daryl asks worriedly, grey eyes raking over his brother's haggard face.

"Not by a walker," Merle wheezes. Half laughing, half choking to death.

Michonne grabs the needle.

"Get his shirt off," she instructs. Daryl does that and she feels for the spot Merle said.

"Here?" she asks, pressing her finger into the flesh between his ribs.

"Yep," Merle winces. Michonne inserts the needle, a rush of air escapes. Merle draws in a full breath. It's a start.

"Get pressure on that wound," she barks at Daryl, they are by no means out of the woods yet. "Stop the bleeding." Daryl wraps it up as best he can.

"We're gonna have to move you Merle. We've gotta get you back to Hershel. This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry."

"Whatever you gotta-" Merle's words are cut off by a pained cry as they haul him to his feet.

xxx

They manage to load him into an abandoned vehicle. Daryl drives and she rides in the back with Merle, doing her best to stop him bleeding out before they get back to the prison.

He's pale, clammy, drifting in and out of consciousness.

She smacks his cheek, trying to get him to keep his eyes open and focus on her.

"Merle. Hey, c'mon. You're gonna be alright. Just keep looking at me." She doesn't want to face another needless death. Why can't people understand the real enemy is out there, waiting to eat them, not amongst the few living people left?

Merle's eyes slide shut. She smacks him again. "Focus Merle, you can't die yet. Not yet." His eyes crack open again and he grins at her before he loses consciousness completely. Like she just said the funniest thing in the world. She doesn't want to think it, but the thought is there; of course Merle Dixon was gonna die with a smile on his face. She presses her hands harder against the wound, unwilling to give up.

"I still owe you an ass kicking after that shit you pulled," she tells his unresponsive form.

xxx

"What happened?" Rick demands, when they finally make it back to the prison.

"The Governor had some fun," Daryl says shortly, pushing past Michonne to haul Merle out of the car. Merle's heavy, and seeing Daryl's struggle, Rick immediately goes to his aid, slinging Merle's other arm around his shoulder, and helping the archer get his injured brother into a cell where Hershel can work.

Michonne goes ahead to open the doors.

"Hershel!" she yells into the prison. "We need help!"

They get Merle onto a cot and the old man appears in the door way with his youngest daughter. When he sees the situation he sends Beth for his kit.

Daryl's hovering over Merle, panicking, Rick has to pull him back for Hershel to get through.

"What happened?" Hershel asks, as Beth comes back with the bag.

"That psycho Governor tried to kill him!" Daryl yells. "Do somethin'!"

"Get him outta here, Rick," the old man instructs. Rick coaxes Daryl away.

"You got somethin' more helpful to say?" Hershel asks calmly. It takes Michonne a moment to realise he's talking to her.

"Umm, yeah. Just the chest wound... and his hand," she adds when her eyes land on the blood soaked rag wrapped around Merle's fingers. Or at least what left of them.

The old man notices the needle hanging out of Merle's chest.

"What's this?"

"He said something about too much air in his chest. He made me stick that in so he could breathe. I think the knife hit one of his lungs." Hershel bends his head to listen to Merle's unsteady breaths.

"Pulmonary laceration," the vet nods. "You've done the right thing Michonne. Without a hospital all we can do is keep the drain open until the lung heals. They actually heal remarkably well on their own. The main problem is going to be keeping any infections out."

Michonne nods, that'll mean dressings and antiseptics and medication.

"Tell me what you need."

 **AN: I made Merle's injury a stab wound rather than a gunshot so I wouldn't have to deal with removing bullets or exit wounds. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Welcome to the Tombs (Part 1)

**Chapter 2: Welcome to the Tombs (Part 1)**

As it turns out, Merle doesn't croak. Michonne had known he was made of tough stuff, cutting his own hand off and surviving the impromptu amputation proved that.

She walks towards his cell with the intention of checking on him. She's been with him this far, might as well stick it out now and see if the jerk makes it.

She finds him awake, a devious grin spreading across his face at the sight of her.

"Well hello compadre," he drawls.

"Merle," she replies, managing not to roll her eyes at the misguided insinuation. They are not friends, nor will they ever be.

"The doc tells me I've got you to thank for all this." He waves his bandaged hand over his bandaged chest.

She shrugs. She doesn't need any thanks, helping an injured man is just kind of a given. Compassion is an ability she never wants to lose.

"How you feelin'?" she asks instead, stepping into the cell to get a better look at him. He doesn't look well but he doesn't look like he's dying either. His skin has an ashy tone and there are dark circle under his eyes but the fighting spirit that Merle is notorious for is still there. It's in the mocking glint of his eyes and the sarcastic curl of his mouth.

"I'll live. Better question might be, how are you?"

"Me?" she frowns, momentarily thrown because she's in perfect health. Then she realises he's getting at something and she knows she doesn't want to appear weak in front of this man. He's a predator that will use any chink in her armour to his advantage. She pushes her shoulders back and stands taller.

"I'm just fine."

"But you weren't yesterday, were you?" he pushes.

"There something you wanna say?" she challenges.

"No need to get all defensive, darlin'. Ain't no shame in admitting you were scared."

"No," she coldly and definitively states, "I wasn't."

"Yes you was," he says with a widening grin, "you were crappin' your pants that ol' Merle wasn't gonna make it." The idea that she was worried about him seems to amuse him no end. She changes tactics, hoping it'll stop him from seeing how rattled she is. Compassion is one thing, but actively fearing for a man that tried to kill you on more than one occasion is just plain crazy. She goes with the flippant approach.

"I think you lost too much blood Merle, it made you delusional."

"I know what I saw, girl."

"I was worried for Daryl," she sniffs.

"So you were scared," he says with a victorious smile. Is there no way she can win this? She falls back on the go-to solution these days. Violence.

"You know, right now I could still cut your ugly head off your shoulders."

"You ain't gonna do that."

"No," she admits, "because I don't feel like cleaning up the filthy mess it would make. I'll wait 'til you're better. I can do it outside then." He laughs. A real one. Like she actually said something funny. Not like he's making fun of her.

"Okay, not big on admitting you give a shit. That's cool."

She just glares at him, partially because he's annoying and mostly because he might be right. She wants to write him off as just another loser hick, but he's clever and perceptive, there's no denying that. She has a feeling that Merle could really step up if he wanted to. He had let her go and gone on to face the Governor alone after all. Thinking of Merle and the Governor sparks a memory for her and genuine curiosity takes over.

"Hey Merle, where'd you learn all them big medical words?"

"Pays to know that kinda shit in the military darlin'."

"You were in the military?" She finds it hard to believe he possessed that type of discipline. Though he was pretty good at being the governor's bitch...

"Why so surprised? They give ya big guns and tell ya to use 'em. Suited me just fine."

"You ever do tactical shit?"

"Sometimes."

"What do you think about this situation now? How do we fight the Governor? Cause both of us know he's not done yet."

Merle looks at her thoughtfully. Probably deciding whether or not he owes them this help. She assumes there'll have to be something in it for him but he surprises her again when he readily agrees.

"Alright. Get everyone else in here, I'm only gonna say this once."

xxx

"Right, so that clear?" Merle asks the group, made up of herself, Rick, Daryl and Hershel. She hadn't asked Glenn and Maggie, considering their history with Merle. It'd be better if their orders came from Rick.

They all nod. Rick turns to the old man.

"Hershel, you can wait outside the fence with Beth, Carl, Judith and Merle."

"Hey!" Merle protests, "that ain't what I meant!" The corner of Michonne's mouth twitches, threatening to curl her lips into a smile at Merle's outrage.

"It's exactly what you meant," Rick says. "Anyone too weak to fight is out."

"I ain't weak!"

"You can't even lift a gun."

"Maybe not a rifle but I can use a handgun."

"With no fingers?" Michonne chips in. He throws her a filthy look before glaring at Rick again.

"Shut it Merle, ya ain't staying." Daryl says it to be the tough guy but Michonne sees straight through him. Losing Merle scares the crap out of him and after Merle's recent run in with the Governor Daryl doesn't want to go there again.

Shockingly Merle backs down. He does it in true Merle style though.

"I guess the weaklings need protecting, and someone capables gotta do it."

"Thanks Merle," Rick says, almost managing to keep a lid on his sarcasm.

"No problem Officer Friendly," Merle replies with a feral grin, to remind the cop he won't always be the invalid he is today.


	3. Welcome to the Tombs (Part 2)

**Chapter 3: Welcome to the Tombs (Part 2)**

 **AN: Sorry it's been a while. I got a review yesterday asking about another chapter so I searched my drafts and check out what I found. Enjoy :)**

Now that the plans are set like Merle had said, Michonne goes to let Rick know it's all done.

"We're ready." And finding him alone she decides to clear the air between them too. "The deal the Governor offered about me, you had to think about it. You had to. I get it."

"Yeah... Well I'm sorry. I came real close."

"But you didn't. I never thanked you."

"For what?"

"For getting me out there that day, for taking me in."

"Well if you didn't have that baby formula, I wouldn't have."

"You could've just taken the formula," she points out. For some reason Rick is uncomfortable accepting her gratitude. Maybe he's like her, showing weakness just isn't an option any more.

"Well, musta been somethin' else then," he allows. "You know, it was Carl who made the call, he said you belonged here, you're one of us."

She hides how happy that makes her feel behind a question, careful not to show any vulnerability.

"That go for Merle too?"

"I don't think I'd go that far," Rick laughs. It's a deep, masculine sound and a nice change to see him smile even if it only lasts for a second. "Seriously though, can we trust him?" he asks her.

"He almost died trying to take out the Governor," she points out. She can't really think of a better way for Merle to admit he gives a shit about what happens to their group.

"He won't switch teams if a better offer comes along?" Rick asks.

"He wants to be with Daryl. Daryl isn't going anywhere. If you trust Daryl, you can trust Merle."

Rick nods, accepting her advice. Maybe she really is part of this family now. One day, could that go for Merle too?

xxx

"Anything happens to them and I'll kill you myself," Daryl threatens as he helps Merle finish prepping the car. Merle is about to head off with the rest of the 'weaklings' to hide in the forest. He hates running from a fight that involves his brother, but he really is too messed up to be of any use. He's still pretty confident he could kick Daryl's ass if he had to though. The kid never did have the stomach for any real scrappin'.

"You ain't got the balls for it, little brother."

"I ain't messing around Merle," Daryl snarls, "they're family too."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay," Merle agrees, he doesn't need a talking to from his pansy kid brother.

"I mean it," Daryl insists with more conviction than Merle's ever seen in him before. It makes him think twice about giving Daryl a hard time. All Daryl ever wanted was a place to belong and he seems to have found that here. Maybe Merle should think about joining him rather than trying to beat him. Still, that doesn't mean he can't be a little pissed off that Daryl found what he was looking for with someone other than him.

"Quit bitchin' at me. I said okay, damnit," Merle concedes. "You really think I'd hurt a one-legged old man and some little kids?"

Daryl opens his mouth, decides not to say what he was gonna say, and closes it again.

"I guess not," he finally admits.

"I'll look after 'em. I promise." The moment threatens to become... well, a _moment_ and getting all mushy isn't something the Dixon brothers do. Merle puts a condescending grin on his face. "Now run along and find your cop buddy before he arrests me for kidnapping ya."

Daryl almost smiles. Almost.

"Rick ain't so bad, Merle. Give him a chance. You two just got off on the wrong foot."

"You mean hand," Merle jokes. Daryl doesn't see the funny side.

"You did that yourself. He was comin' back for you and he's done right by the rest of us."

Looks like Daryl mighta finally found a backbone.

"Yeah, we'll see. Now beat it." He wishes he had a working hand to scruff up Daryl's overgrown mop before he leaves.

He never thought he'd see the day when a Dixon and a cop saw eye to eye, but then again he never thought he'd see the day when the dead rose up and walked around chowing down on the living. So maybe stranger things had happened than Daryl going ahead and making best buddies with the fuzz.

xxx

Judy's wails ring out through the forest.

"Shut that damn kid up!" Merle snaps. She was gonna draw in every walker within a five mile radius not to mention the Governor and his crew if she didn't quit her caterwauling.

Carl doesn't budge. He's acting like a typical bratty teenager, even in the midst of hell he's managing to sulk good and proper over the fact that his daddy wouldn't let him play with the big boys.

The little blonde girl ain't so foolhardy though. She scoops the crying baby up and tries to comfort her but her efforts fall on deaf ears. Merle don't know much about kids, but what he does know is that she needs to shut the hell up, and that whatever Beth's doing isn't working.

"Here," he barks, holding his arms out for the kid and Beth stares at him with wide blue eyes. "C'mon girl! Pass her over," he insists, "nothing you've tried is workin'." Understandably she's a little wary of him after what he did to her sister and the chinaman. He still can't figure out what a catch like Maggie is doing with a skinny little Asian delivery boy or why her daddy allows races to mix like that, but that's beside the point. He drops his voice and tries to sound as nonthreatening as he can. "I ain't gonna hurt her. I promise."

Shocked into obedience, Beth hands the baby over.

With one and a half arms and nowhere near enough fingers, Merle manages to cradle the bawling child, bouncing her gently and speaking softly to her.

"There, there Judy, c'mon settle down. You don't want those nasty ol' walkers comin' over here and gobbling y'all up now do ya?" He speaks through gritted teeth, reining in his frustration because yelling at a dumb baby isn't gonna achieve anything, no matter how much better it'd make him feel. Though, looking down at her distraught little face he does have to admit he feels a bit sorry for her. There's nothing but pain and hardship ahead. It's no way to live a life, let alone begin one, but poor little Judy ain't got much choice. Best she can hope for is that whoever makes it out of today's mess alive thinks she's worth the trouble of protecting. He hasn't quite decided if that's him or not when she finally starts to quiet down and maybe, just maybe, gives him a watery smile. Damnit. "That's it. That's a girl," he coos.

"Hey, she likes you," Beth says with a sweet, sincere smile. The farmer's daughter sure is a pretty little thing when she's not looking like a frightened rabbit. "It must run in the family, she likes Daryl too."

"She probably just realised she don't want no mean ol' walker makin' a meal outta her." Without realising, his voice takes on a lighter tone and he's speaking down to the baby. He catches himself and snaps out of it when Beth's grin widens. Whatever's on the tip of her tongue to say, now isn't the time or place for it. He draws in a breath to remind her that her sister might be dead or dying at this very moment but they're interrupted when one of the Woodbury folk stumbles upon them. Some scared looking kid whose name Merle can't remember.

The policeman's son is quick to raise his weapon. Carl's grown up a lot since those early days at the roadside camp. But then killing your own mother'll do that to a boy, Merle supposes. Merle doesn't do anything. He's quite content to sit back and see how this plays out. There's no danger to them, Carl's got the drop and he's serious as a heart attack to boot.

"Drop the weapon son," the old man says and the kid agrees, holding out his weapon in surrender. It don't help him none though, because Merle'll be damned if young Carl doesn't up and shoot him anyhow.

xxx

"We did it. We drove them out," Rick says with relief.

Michonne hates to burst his bubble but this isn't done yet. "We should go after them."

"We should finish it," Daryl agrees. So she's not the only one that's sick of living on tenterhooks. Knowing the walkers are there is one thing, but waiting for someone with a functioning brain to attack is another thing altogether.

Rick nods.

"Let's check on the others."

Back inside they find everyone safe and more or less sound. Carl, Judith, Hershel, Beth and Merle.

Michonne watches Rick's reunion with his children, maybe a little enviously but mostly just happy for him. He kisses Judith and hugs Carl before Hershel draws him aside for a private conversation. Michonne turns away from them, her eyes landing on Beth and the little one.

"How is she?" Michonne asks with a smile, trying not to let the memory of her own lost child taint her view of Judith.

"She's okay. She wouldn't stop cryin' before, 'til Merle got hold of her and then she just settled right on down."

"Merle?"

"Funny, ain't it?" Beth says with a smile. Merle and Judith, it is a funny thought, Michonne can't really imagine him having the patience or gentleness for a baby. She looks up from Judith's baby face to see him watching Rick and Hershel like a hawk. He's got a look on his face that doesn't bode well.

"That boy is a cold blooded killer," Merle chimes in, interrupting the private conversation. "You oughta be real proud of him Officer Friendly."

"Shut up Merle," Rick snaps back.

"What? I'm serious, he'll be standing long after the rest of us are dead."

Rick looks like he's fixing to punch Merle in the mouth and Merle looks like he couldn't care less. In fact he seems to be enjoying it. Michonne decides to intervene if for no other reason than she doesn't want to be walking into Woodbury with Rick nursing a wrecked hand because he's broken it hitting Merle, whose head is obviously full of rocks.

She walks over and steps in, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

"Hey Merle, can I talk to you for a second?"

"You certainly can, sweetheart." He flashes her a grin, throws Rick one last malicious look, and she leads him away.

"You know Merle, pissing Rick off probably isn't the smartest thing to do. You wanna stay here, don't you?"

"Well now, I don't know. That depends..." He eyes her up in a way that is downright creepy. She ignores it though, for the sake of Rick and Daryl. Now is not the time to be starting trouble. One day though, she is seriously gonna tell them that they owe her big time.

"Stop being a jackass for once and think. We've got a good thing here and it could be yours too if you can stop acting like a jerk long enough to appreciate that. We're going to Woodbury now, to finish it with the Governor. Hopefully by the time we get back you'll have made up your mind about whose side you're on."

"I know whose side I'm on sister."

"If it's Daryl's then start acting like it. If it's not, don't let the gate hit you on the way out," she tells him. She's had enough of his shit. If there was ever a time to be serious, this is it. He must pick up on it because the grin slips off his face.

"I never meant nothing by it," he grumbles. It kinda almost sounds like an apology. Time will tell. Actions speak louder than words. She holds his gaze, trying to discern if he'll make the right choice, if he'll at least try to fit in. She can't read him though.

"Michonne! We're going," Daryl calls.

"Hey," Merle says, voice softer and more sincere than moments ago. "You know I'd be going with y'all if I could, right?"

Michonne nods and walks away. Suddenly Merle is the least of her worries. The Governor waits.

xxx

So Michonne wants him to pick a side. It's not difficult, he's always on the same side and that's his own. She didn't like the idea of that though, so he'll keep it to himself, play along like a good little Officer Friendly follower. Doesn't mean he can't think about getting others join him and number one on his list is ripe for the picking.

"Hey there Carl," he says, sounding as friendly as he can. The boy turns a scowl on him. He really isn't very happy with his daddy right now.

"The way you stepped up earlier was pretty impressive. Judith's lucky to have a brother like you."

The praise works a treat.

"Really?" Carl says, years falling off him as he accepts the complement with a child's eagerness to be praised.

"Well sure," Merle says, "it takes a real man to do what you did to protect his family. Some people will say you shouldn't a done it but you and I both know the rules have changed. The world ain't what it used to be and you've gotta be strong and ruthless to survive now. Trust your gut Carl, and never let anyone tell you what's best for you or your sister, you're the one who knows what you both need."

"Okay, thanks. I will."

"Oh, and Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be too hard on your daddy, he can't help thinking to way he does. Once a lawman, always a lawman. He just hasn't accepted yet that there ain't no laws no more. You and I both know better though, don't we?" He finishes with a wink, Carl nods and grins back. He's taken the bait, hook, line and sinker. Let's see how long Officer Friendly's reign can last when his own son doesn't even see fit to follow him.

xxx

Somehow, through the agonising grief, she'd remembered Hershel's request. The medical supplies he needed. She'd raided Milton's stash, while Rick and Daryl rounded up the Woodbury leftovers. It's what Andrea would've done.

Back at the prison, everything's different. It's full of strangers and devoid of hope. She didn't want to have hope in a hopeless world, but now it's gone she wants it back. Andrea's not out there anymore. There is no 'one day when she comes back'. She's dead. Gone. And all those long months of struggling and surviving were for nothing. Andrea deserved better. She'd saved Michonne from herself.

Her feet lead her to Merle's cell. She supposes that's because she didn't save him to let him die now. She dumps the meds next to him.

"Blondie?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. Michonne realises he is the only one who can really understand. He'd seen her and Andrea together, knew what they'd been like when they'd come in from the wild. He'd witnessed that connection.

Michonne shakes her head, not trusting her voice.

"That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear it. She sure was a fighter."

A sob escapes her throat because he's right, that was Andrea. Even to the last. She went out fighting. She took control, pulled the trigger herself. But now she's dead. There's nothing left of her but a pile of meat and Michonne can't pretend that doesn't break her heart. She breaks down at the injustice of it, weeping for her lost friend.

"Hey, hey c'mon now," Merle's saying with uncertainty. He doesn't know how to comfort her, not understanding it's impossible in the wake of a blow like this. It's not up to him anyway, but then she can't think of anyone else she rather have try. He manoeuvres her down to sit on the cot beside him and wraps an awkward arm around her shoulders. She cries into her hands, letting the tears flow until they run dry, knowing that there is no one now left that she will need to mourn so heartily again. When the tears stop she pulls the broken pieces of herself together, wipes her eyes, and flees the cell. She's not sure why she let anyone see that, weakness is something she can't afford. It has no place in the world now if you want to survive. And for some stupid and inexplicable reason she does. She wants to keep fighting. She wants to live.


End file.
